coalesce
by gkmoberg1
Summary: My second detour addition to Lee Kyle's fan fic novel "Let Me In 2." This one - coalesce - starts near the end of LMI2's "Chapter 8: Cherokee," and collides fully with the actions at the end "Chapter 11: Training." Thanks to Lee Kyle for allowing me to post this, a fan fic based on his. -GK
1. Chapter 1 - diabetes mellitus

Ch.1. **diabetes mellitus**

_"I don't know where we are," he said. "We need better maps. Close-in maps showing just this area. We need to find the nearest trails."_

_"This is a good hiding place," Abby replied. "The road south of here, that used to be the Unicoi Turnpike. It doesn't look like it's important now. And these mountains used to have Indians in them. Not anymore." _

_[ Kyle, Lee. 'Chapter 8: Cherokee.' Let Me In 2. FanFiction Net (2011) ] _

~oOo~ ~oOo~ January ~oOo~ ~oOo~

The crack of a branch off in the woods caught her attention. She sat up and listened. Silence. Beside her a familiar shape remained still, and she knew from the steady low breathing that he was fast asleep.

She brushed down a bit of his hair poking up the wrong way. Then quiet as a ghost, she crawled headfirst from her sleeping bag and then from their tent. Cold winter night air stung at her face. Fortunately there was no snow. The southern end of the Appalachians seldom had snow of any significance, yet the nighttime temperatures were below freezing and the ground was frozen.

She doubted anyone was out there. The trees and undergrowth along with the steep terrain made it difficult for anyone to get around. Come summer they would have company, fellow campers in Georgia's Chattahoochee National Forest, but such was not the case for late January. Their campsite might even be the only active one in the forest.

Lu loved the outdoors. The feel of moving fresh air, yes especially biting cold mountain air, brought her to life. It could only be matched by the air she found while out on her beloved laser, working her way through the brackish waters of the Chesapeake. This was good living, she thought, being outside, away from the world of air conditioned cars and office buildings. This felt good and this is where she wanted to be.

Hearing another faint crack she decided to sit by the remains of their campfire and see what happened next. It was still dark but she knew dawn as not far off. Soon light would creep from the east, gray at first and then develop into a pale blue. It would be hard to see any of the coming dawn through the forest canopy but she had experienced it so many times she could relive it with her eyes closed.

Remembering her new toy, she reached into the pouch she kept on her waist and got out her trial Self Monitoring Blood Glucose kit. Her husband's research team had been working on this for about a year. Although it was still early in the development cycle and would be some years – perhaps 1986 - before it could be marketed, he was insistent that this was the future. She knew she was the drive for this. He would do anything for her – it was just one of the reasons she loved him so much.

A prick of her finger brought forth a few drops of blood. Its metallic bouquet immediately sliced through the cold air, and she wrinkled her nose in reaction. Carefully she re-angled the flashlight cradled in her lap. But her concentration was broken upon realizing something else in the air about her had changed. Had, Lu wondered, she been hearing a slight rustling sound nearby? Had it stopped at the same moment the smell from the drop of blood reached her nose? The quiet of the woods now seemed unnatural. But shining the flashlight in a long arc around the campsite showed nothing. Returning to her task, she performed the testing steps and found her glucose level was off but yet was good enough for now. She put the reagent strip down beside her and with a leaf wiped the blood droplets from her fingers.

She yawned and stirred the dull embers of their fire pit one last time. Again a faint crack of a branch off in the woods. This time it seemed far off. Feeling a need to climb back into their tent and get some more rest before the day began, she glanced over at her daughter's tent as she put down the stick she was using. The flaps of her daughter's tent were closed tight and all was buttoned down. Glad to know Kay was asleep, she got up and crawled back to her spot. Quiet as a ghost.

As Lu crawled back into her sleeping bag, he stirred a little. She put out a hand to him, resting it squarely yet gently on his back.

"What's happening?"

"Nothing," she replied, "go back to sleep."

"You too. What are you up for?"

"Thought I heard something." And she kissed him on the back of one shoulder.

"Mmmm, I could just eat you up," she said, as she always did.

With that she drifted off to sleep. No dreams, just sleep. Her last thought was a pondering whether that could be a slight touch of footsteps outside her tent – faintly padding about where she had been sitting by the fire pit.

~oOo~

"Mom?"

The girl's voice brought her back from sleep. Darkness still enveloped her sight and it took Lu a moment to remember she was out in the woods, camping with her family.

"What's up sweetie?"

A pause.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure thing," she said, wanting only to return to sleep. "Come on in, honey."

She sensed a slight movement as the tent about her swayed in reaction to the door flap being opened. Then Lu felt her climbing in, feeling with her hands as she went, pulling a sleeping bag with her and settling finally down beside her.

# # #

[2013-June-06]: Minor grammatical corrections.  
[2013-July-17]: Minor rephrasing.


	2. Chapter 2 - the wee-vee

ch.2. **the ****wee-vee**

_"Where would we live?" Owen asked._

_"In Chevy Chase. That's a suburb of Washington, D.C.  
It's close to the hospital where I'll be getting Abby's blood."_

_[ Kyle, Lee. 'Chapter 9: Secret Society.' Let Me In 2. FanFiction Net (2011) ] _

~oOo~ ~oOo~ ~oOo~ ~oOo~ ~oOo~

With morning sunshine flooding the tent, Lu woke up between her husband and daughter. This was worth a picture. The heart of all she clove to, settled on either side of her. On one side, her husband for whom she had literally fought for and who now was fighting for her. And on the other, well, their dear creation. She could not ask for more, ever.

"I have to hold onto this moment," she whispered quietly. She meant it for herself but upon speaking she felt a twitch behind her.

"Why, mom?"

"Because why would I ever want to forget? You, me, daddy. We're all here, snug-a-bugs."

"It's cold."

"Come here," she said and rolled her seventh-grader tight up against her.

~oOo~ ~oOo~ ~oOo~

"That stuff smells gross!" announced Kay. Her parents had boiled up some coffee over the fire while she stuck with water from her thermos.

"Someday you'll be all for it," replied Lu.

Kay made a face and sat down on her rolled up sleeping bag. She watched as her dad took down and folded away their two tents. Kay really liked having her own tent. Santa – well, she knew who that meant - had given it to her at Christmas, and she had figured she'd be using it this summer when they went camping. That they'd be camping within a month's time into the new year was something she hadn't expected.

"Are we leaving soon?"

"Well, yes, soon. I thought you liked camping."

"It's _January_, mom, what do you think."

Lu scrunched up her face, echoing Kay's prior grimace back at her daughter. "Camping in January," she said, "I think that'd be a good book title."

Kay shook her head in mock disapproval and helped smother out their camp fire. As the three worked at stowing away the final bits of their gear, Kay thought it through. Their home's second floor hallway was loaded with pictures of her parents kayaking on the St. Lawrence Seaway. The living room held pictures of their trek through Maine's rugged section of the Appalachian Trail. Over the fireplace hung a large shot of a much younger mom and dad cross-country skiing in Wisconsin. Kay had to smile. Plus, back at their real house – not this rental one they were staying at in Atlanta – they had a shed full of kayaks, lasers and sabots as well as their bicycles. Given the weight of all that, "Camping in January," as strange as that sounded actually made sense. Perhaps her parents even thought weekend camping in Georgia, January or not, might be, well, boring.

~oOo~ ~oOo~ ~oOo~

They sang along to REO Speedwagon during their way south on Georgia State Road 400. The Sunday morning traffic was very light. The cassette deck of their Dodge Aries sometimes ate the tapes but today it was behaving. Lu and Kay took turns playing air guitar while the other sang into an invisible microphone. Daddy's attempt at harmonizing with "Take it on the Run" brought jeers and giggles from Kay. Lu rolled down her window, claiming she was going to become ill.

Quiet Georgia countryside glided by for several hours before they reached the outskirts of Atlanta. Then after making their way in towards the city, Kay's daddy was finally able to announce "Here we are!" as they turned onto their street in Buckhead Village.

Kay and Lu burst from the Aries as soon as it was parked. Kay was the first through the front door; she needed to tell Silvester Cat all about the adventure. Silvester Cat, however, seemed more concerned about being returned to the sofa where he had been sleeping. Eventually he got his wish but not before Kay had explained to him how her new tent worked.

The mail was brought in from the letter box.

Camping gear was carried in from the car and dumped, for the moment, in the small house's front room.

The weekend's dirty clothes were collected and carried off to the wash room.

Erica White, the neighbor who had been watching their place since that Friday afternoon. ran across the street to say Silvester Cat was a doll and that she'd watch after him any time they wanted.

Kay was questioned about how much homework she had to complete before tomorrow morning.

A friendly debate began over what to do for dinner. Could something be thawed out in time or should they treat themselves at their favorite restaurant?

The answering machine had been blinking steadily at them from its home on one of the end tables. Kay activated it, expecting it to something from Jenn. Jenn lived across the street and the two spent as much time as possible together.

"_This is Dr. __William __Braddish calling from __Walter Reed Hospital in __Bethesda. Lucy, your father was brought in last night after taking a fall. He's resting now and doing well. We plan to keep him here __at least one more night and__ want to catch you up on where things are at and how he's doing. Please give me call when when you get __this__. __My office can be reached at__(301)295-4000,__ extension __20-__4__149._"

Lu was in a panic before Dr. Braddish was even halfway done. She raced through the supplies, freshly brought in from the car. Her hands were full by the time the message ended. "Kay, you take care of daddy for me!" With kisses and a hug for each, she was out the door, into her Jeep and down the street.

Kay, startled and a little bleary, looked at her dad, who was equally shocked.

"Mom didn't write down the phone number!"

"I don't think that matters. She'll know the way."

Kay just stood there and he thought she was going to cry.

"Does this mean I get to have brownies for dinner?" he asked. It worked: he got a hug and she wanted one in return.

~oOo~ ~oOo~ ~oOo~

"Dad?"

Eight hours of travel, including a Delta flight to Washington National and then a rental car, had brought her to Bethesda Military Hospital. She had arrived at the end of visiting hours and was surprised at being allowed in.

He looked like he'd been in a bar fight. Two visible bruises, one on his cheek and one across the bridge of his nose, looked ugly and painful.

"Hey, there's my girl!" he got out, but without the usual gusto.

"Oh Dad, what did you do to yourself?"

"Took on the front steps and the railing. You should see how they look."

The floor nurse who had brought her to his room chuckled. "I'll give you two a moment. But we need to scoot you out of here soon," she said to Lu, "so keep it short for this evening."

"Thank you," Lu said as the nurse wandered off. She then turned her focus to her dad.

Henry had been settled into a good sized room that held four hospital beds. Three were occupied. The other occupants, two elderly men, were asleep. Thin, worn, off-white curtains hung from ceiling rail tracks between the beds. Her dad, Henry, lay covered by a blanket. The head end of his bed was raised, allowing him to see the room and the wide doorway to the hall. He was attached to an IV pole and the back of his left hand was taped up where the needle was inserted into his skin. On his head he wore his favorite baseball cap, the one with "BB-48" stitched in bold white lettering across the center.

She had never thought of her dad as fragile. That was changing. He had been strong in his youth, a Navy man who had seen war and come through it well. Today her father looked much less than that former self. This was more than the battering he had taken by falling down his front door stairs. A frailness that must have long been creeping in was taking hold.

"If I know you, you got here about as fast as you could."

"Sure did, Dad. Sorry that it took me this long."

"Ohhh, I knew this'd be a good way to get your attention," he kidded. "I'll bet you have rental car out in the parking lot."

She nodded in agreement.

"And you haven't arranged for a place to stay yet."

"Yeh," she admitted.

"Always the daughter I raised," he said, "rushing into things before you've made plans."

"Yes, that's me."

"And I must say," he observed, "succeeding as usual."

"And you," she said back, "not watching where you're walking. What are we going to do with you?"

"Might need to trade me in," he said. "The doctors say I have several cracked ribs. I don't know about that but I do know my left hip took a good whack when I fell. Doctors say I didn't break it though."

She paused and gave him a long look before answering. "Dad, this isn't good. I'll stay with you."

"Lu, I've been expecting you all afternoon. And I knew you were going to say that. Not because you'd need a place to stay, but because of how we are." He waved her down when she went to protest. "And so I've thought through this argument on your staying. It's been going 'round my head. Whether you should stay here or head back home to Kay. Okay, let's just cut right to the finish: Stay. As in, yes, you win on this one. I know I'm going to need some help when they cut me loose from here and I'd rather have you helping me than some nursery maid they assign to me."

"Thanks Dad."

"Settled. So, you're going to need my keys. I'm not sure where they have them. Go tell your nurse friend that you'll leave her alone as soon as you get them. Go grab some sleep and call your family."

She gave him a kiss – picking the less-wounded cheek – and said good night. He might look frail but his personality and his way of running things were unchanged.

"See you tomorrow, Dad."

"Thanks Lu. You git."

~oOo~ ~oOo~ ~oOo~

"Mom?"

"Hi Kay. You ready for bed?"

"Yes. How's grandpa?"

"Safe and sound. He's in a hospital where they've been taking good care of him. He'll be home tomorrow."

"Will you come back here then?"

"Yes. But I'm going to stay here for a couple of days and make sure he's okay."

"Okay. What happened to him?"

"I'm at his house. He feel down the stairs right out front. It's icy and I can see how it could easily happen."

"Is he going to be okay?"

"Yes, he will. Now, are you ready for bed?"

"You already asked me that."

"Oh, yes I did. Love you darling. Can you put daddy on?"

[…]

~oOo~ March ~oOo~

Lu brought the laser hard over to port, bringing the bow into the wind. Using the boat's momentum and her grip on the lines, she ensured the bow's progress through the turn. Wind refilled the sail. The little boat shot forward.

Tacking was second nature. She had grown up on the water. Her dad had started her out with a sabot when she was about eight years old, showing her how to judge the wind and water. Within a couple of years she was sailing in races by herself. "The demon girl of Seattle," a newspaperman had once written about her. She loved the water and could spend hours on it.

In most ways, sailing on Chesapeake Bay was a lot like the sailing she did long ago on Puget Sound. Yet in many ways it wasn't. The weather was the major difference. But the thrill was the same. As well, being out on the water allowed Lu to escape the pressures of her life. It gave her a refuge and time to work things through.

She tacked through the wind again and her craft left Sullivan Cove behind. She headed downriver, south-east towards Annapolis. The early April sunshine was gaining warmth each day. It was mid afternoon and she figured she could spend another hour working her way back to where she had put the laser into the water. Then she'd have to get back to the issues she was trying to avoid.

Following her dad's accident, she had been flying regularly between her family in Atlanta and her dad's place in Fairfax. Henry had been out of the hospital since the beginning of February but still wasn't getting around as well as they had hoped. It was clear that he would need to move. He was nearly seventy years old; the place he had called home for some fifteen years had become too hard for him get around in.

The choice she favored was to have him move to their permanent home in Arnold, Maryland. The house was rented out to another family until June, but at that point they could have it back. By then Kay would be done with her school year down in Atlanta. With some luck, or encouragement, maybe her husband could transfer back to the D.C. area. That would put all of them - including dad - in the same house.

~oOo~ ~oOo~ ~oOo~

"Henry, what is going on?" she demanded. "Kay says this is the second time you've been late to pick her up at school!"

"Sorry, honey. It's the work. The lab. It's tough. I've apologized to her a dozen times."

"This is your _daughter_. You don't forget your daughter!"

Static rippled over the phone line.

"You need me to be there. You can't do this on your own."

"No, I'll not forget again. She's fine."

"She's not fine, Stan. She's upset that you've left her there twice."

"Again, I'm sorry. I'm on it. … How's your dad?"

"You're changing the subject and I'm really angry with you. This isn't fair to her. Or me."

Silence.

"Okay, he's not well. He's not making the effort to keep after himself. I went out for a couple of hours today and when I got back he had fallen again. He didn't hurt himself, but he's going to if he's not careful."

~oOo~ ~oOo~ ~oOo~

A light squall came over Little Round Bay and drenched her. Lu angled the laser around the far end of and started back. Because of the weather she was alone on the water. She was dressed appropriately but that was about the only point in her favor. She could tell from her symptoms - headache, weakness, nausea - that she was hypoglycemic.

She ate the one energy bar that she had with her and hoped it would be enough.

The travel was hard on her. Atlanta. Fairfax. Flights. Rental cars. Arranging for her father's appointments. Getting him there on time. Staying on top of his recovery and medications.

There was no time for herself. She wasn't eating right. Keeping on top of her medications and glucose level sometimes had to be put aside.

Her dad's fading strength was perplexing. She didn't know whether to be angry or frustrated with his health. And he didn't seem to care.

She was sweating inside of her windbreaker.

If she passed out while out here on the water – she didn't want go there.

Lu drove the the laser best as she could, using the wind to bring her back to Arnold as quickly as could be done.

~oOo~ ~oOo~ ~oOo~

The following Tuesday she was back in Atlanta.

"Kay will be no problem at all," said Erica. The three were sitting on the back porch of Lu and Stan's rented house.

"We really appreciate this," said Lu.

"If anything," Erica continued, "Jenn and your daughter are going to have a harder time once summer arrives. You'll have Kay going back to school this fall up in Maryland. That's going to be tough on both of them. I think that's going to be hanging over the heads as this school year winds down."

"Well," chimed in Stan, "let's consider having Jenn up to visit us over the summer. School only has about three or four weeks left for the year. Anytime you like, send Jenn our way."

"You know," replied Erica, "I think we might do that. I know Jenn will be all for it, so let's see if we can make this work."

"Oh wow," said Lu in expectation, "I can't wait for the two of them to get off the school bus this afternoon!"

Lu gave Stan a hug. He had done it, somehow. Over the weekend he had called her in Fairfax to announce he had been offered a position – starting right away – back in Bethesda. This alone was stunning good luck, Lu had thought.

The trouble was how to handle the end of Kay's school year. But Stan had pulled this off too. Noting how Kay and Jenn were pals, he had broached the idea with Erica White about having Kay stay with them.

Stan looked at Lu as she continued to talk with Erica. Her color was off and she looked thinner. He had pushed to get this opportunity, and it had come at some cost. Yet he had been sensing that she was having a hard time. And he was right, he could see it plain as day.

~oOo~ April ~oOo~

"We were off Okinawa during this month, 1945. The war's final year, though we didn't know it at the time." Henry was wearing his cap and seated in his favorite chair of his living room. Lu stood at the room's entrance, balancing paying attention both to him and to the stew she had going in the kitchen. "The Japs, we were told, were sending out their super battleship."

"Yamato," she said. She'd been hearing his stories all her life.

"We were going to intercept her. But our fly boys sank her long before it go to Okinawa. She went down with all hands and that was that."

"Never got within sight?" she asked as she headed back to kitchen for a second.

"No. Never got close."

Despite the monotony of his stories she knew at least that he was holding onto his memories.

But at the same time, she was increasingly feeling run down. She was living with a nagging headache. The whole time she was worrying about his growing bouts of confusion, she was enduring her own.

~oOo~ ~oOo~ ~oOo~

Lu and her laser cut through the water of Weems Creek. She was about two miles, at most, from the naval academy in Annapolis. A lot was working through her head but knowing Stan would be in town soon was helping to calm her worries.

Working the little boat back upriver to Chase Creek and from there back to her dock next to Old River Road, she pondered how the summer might play out. Their house would be free to move back into in a little more than month. She could then move dad in with them. Kay would return from Atlanta. This could work out well.

She got a surprise as she went to land her boat. Stan was standing there, ready to help out. She hadn't been expecting him for another week, but here he was already. She loved how he could come through when needed.

Stan reached and helped Lu out of the laser. He had bought it for her about a decade ago. He even had seen to have it stenciled with the name she had given it in honor of her father's time in the navy: _the wee-vee_.

But as he helped her secure the boat, he saw something that took him away from that memory. On the back of her calf he could see an irregular dark brown splotch. This, cellular pathology, was his specialty. He knew this wasn't good.

# # #

[2013-July-17]: Minor rephrasing.


	3. Chapter 3 - breslow's depth

ch.3. **breslow's depth**

_The next day he took Owen to a Chevy Chase mansion and began showing him around. "The Society will be headquartered here," Alvirez explained. "You see how close it is to your house. When members donate blood I'll be able to get it to you quickly."_

_Owen wandered from room to room. "How do you pay for this?" he asked._

_"You can't break just one law," Alvirez answered._

_[ Kyle, Lee. 'Chapter 9: Secret Society.' Let Me In 2. FanFiction Net (2011) ] _

~oOo~ ~oOo~ ~oOo~ ~oOo~ ~oOo~

Tired, Lu lay face down on a thinly padded hospital examination table. Stan, standing at her side, held her hand. But with her head turned away she could not see him. Rather she was looking opposite, at a raised tray that straddled her shoulder. The tray's surface sat just above her eyesight and the only item she could clearly see on it was the raised chrome edges of a metal dish. The dish was labeled with her name, written in pen on masking tape. "Lucy DeRose." Yet from her viewing angle, her name appeared upside down.

She thought about the shapes that the letters of her name made as they hung inverted before her. The 'L' looked like a descending canine with the following letters forming a row of bicuspids and molars. A dog – sharp predator's teeth – would have a row of teeth that looked like that. Sharp, mean, tearing.

She'd been given a sedative about an hour ago and then a local anesthetic within the previous ten minutes. Voices came to her and she knew they were nearby but she could no longer figure out how many. She knew her husband was here; he was holding her hand. And an attendant, a sweet woman who kept bending over and checking on her, sometimes held her other hand. And she knew Dr. Bradley and one or two interns were somewhere nearby but not visible to her.

"Surgical excision" had been an unknown term to Lu until two nights ago.

First had come the surprise of finding Stan waiting for her when she brought _the wee-vee_ in for the evening. The delight was short lived for next had come his ballooning concern about the mole located high on the back of her calf. She had been aware of it for a month, maybe two or three, and was surprised by his intense reaction.

"I'm taking you first thing tomorrow to have this looked at," he had said once they were back at her father's place in Fairfax. They had stood on opposite sides of the kitchen's central butcher block table. Her dad slept in his chair in the living room while a spring training report had played on the television.

"But I have an appointment at 10:00 to meet with a physical therapist. He might be able to assist dad."

"Okay, fine. But I'm serious, Lu. We're calling in the morning and getting this looked at."

He had then started in with terms that were foreign to her but second nature to him. Stan usually kept his professional side at work so she was not used to seeing _the Doctor_ side of him.

"We went over this three years ago when I had the mellow-something taken off the back of my shoulder," she said with frustration.

"Melanoma. Mel-a-no-ma. It's a type of skin cancer."

"Is this one any different?" she had argued, "this was no problem at all last time." And it hadn't been. A spec of a mole had been found on her back. It was quickly removed. Her doctor had it examined and she was later told it was a melanoma. There had been no fuss, just a removal and life went on.

"Lu, this is most likely _exactly_ that type of cancer. Again. If it is, we need to get it right away. I'm not saying it is another melanoma, but this needs to be looked at – right away."

"How can you know? It's … a brown mole. If this was 'not a problem' three years ago why is it a crisis now?"

"It's too large, Lu. There are qualities to all moles. This lesion has no symmetry. It has no good border. It's not uniform in color. Do you remember any of this?"

"No. This is your territory." Then noting his frustration with her disinterest she continued. "Something about basil. I remember the word because it's an herb."

"Basal cell carcinoma is what you're thinking of. This mole – it could be that. Basal cell presentations can look in many ways like this one." He was glad she remembered at least one of the terms. "But we can't be sure."

The next day, 2pm, they had been at her doctor's office. He too took an immediate dislike to the mole. To her dismay he and Stan were in agreement about a "surgical excision" and began making calls to schedule it. They found that a Dr. Bradley was available and as both men knew him, it was agreed to. Lu suppressed her anger that her schedule was being wiped away without their showing the least concern. The men's talk then turned to "sizing" and "margin measures," moving to a discussion about whether a skin graft would be needed. She ignored all this and worked instead on how to reconstruct her and dad's week.

The day had ended back in Fairfax with her and Stan having an argument about priorities. Somehow it came to include medical terminology, stuff she had no fathom line for figuring out. Angry and upset, it was then hard to sleep. She figured she got about three good hours before she had to get herself back up; her dad was an early riser and needed help as soon as he was awake. The "excision" was scheduled for 10:30 that morning.

The lights in the outpatient operating room flickered out. The attendant at her side made a joke about forgetting to pay the electric bill. When they came back on it was a relief. "Okay, let's not have that happen again," said Stan. Everyone agreed.

A couple minutes later Lu could tell by the pressures on her other leg that the excision had started. She was glad she could not feel anything. The medications were working. She continued to stare at the canine-shaped inverted 'L' of her name, written on the masking tape. She recalled she'd been nipped at by a few dogs once or twice over her forty years. She had seen dog bites in pictures but never in person. Could a dog, Lu wondered, really take a hunk out of your skin? What would that feel like, to lose a hunk of her leg, find it in a dog's jaws. Would it hurt?

Lu tried to focus but knew the medications where calming her, putting her to sleep. There were moments where she could hear the group discussing the work. There were moments where she did nothing but stare at her inverted name. "Lucy DeRose." She thought about the dog her parents used to have. The doctors, she mused, were taking a hunk out of her leg. Would it hurt?

A _gobbet_. The word bubbled up in her mind. It was a vocabulary word she had given back in high school – so many years go. Gobbet: a hunk of flesh. The word had come up again in the acting she did following high school when she was at Seattle's Cornish College of the Arts. Shakespeare was a treasure trove of words! Somewhere in Henry VI was the line "into as many gobbets will I cut it," but which Part of that set of plays or by whom it was said she could not immediately recall.

She wanted to ask Stan if "surgical excision" was any different than being bitten by a dog. Was it just a euphemism for losing a gobbet of yourself? Doctor or dog – did it matter?

In her final moment of fading off to sleep she wondered how a dog felt about biting somebody's leg. Did the dog feel proud about biting through somebody's skin - sharp, mean, tearing?

She would never do that, she decided, even if she had razor sharp canines.

~oOo~

Stan stood by her side throughout the procedure. This was a surgery he had done in the past, although not that often. In recent years he had moved to research positions, working away from patients. Maybe that had been his loss.

He fretted about Lu while he watched the team perform the excision. First they marked out the area where they would perform the cut. Then they cleaned the area. Lu seemed completely indifferent, aloof, to the work. This was likely due to the local anesthetic, but it mirrored her overall attitude.

He had been alarmed to discover she had this melanoma, which is what he believed it to be. Once it was removed they would do an analysis on it. The depth of the lesion – the Breslow's depth - was one aspect of the biopsy. He was concerned about this. This was a recurrence of melanoma, he was certain, and it frightened him.

They had argued last night. Stan hadn't wanted that to happen, and he had likely taken it too far. In part it was due to the surprise of her condition and then her dismissive attitude. But it was also due to the secret he was keeping from her. The new job was something he couldn't discuss with her. For as much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn't. Once the door was open, she'd keep asking for more. And once she knew the truth, he would be facing her disapproval and eventually her anger. So the lid stayed on the secret. Yet the pressure remained.

He turned to check on her and was startled to see she was asleep.

~oOo~ April 4th ~oOo~

Thursday, Stan crashed into his first day at the Society. The mood seeing him off in Fairfax was cold. Lu, recuperating on the sofa, was glad to see him depart. Her calf was yet sore from the operation, and her mood, especially towards him, was not much better. The excision and now the recovery had become his fault. Only Henry seemed amused with the situation. He was being left to take on the odd role reversal: his having to take care of Lu for a day. The opportunity gave him a grin, the best Stan had seen on the old man for a long time. Yet the levity was lost on Lu.

After a stressful drive through D.C.'s rush hour traffic Stan arrived at the Society's offices, a remodeled mansion set off on a fairly quiet street in Chevy Chase. His senses warily rose as he entered. It was his acquaintance from several years back, Dr. Arun Samarth, who showed him around and made the introductions. Stan was careful to size up and examine the tensions exuded by each member. He had made a hobby of sizing up others, especially through first impressions. Here, the common thread was a sense of fiefdom. He found each member of the group held responsibility for a defined knowledge area and each seemed to want to guard that responsibility. Stan sensed this was intentional. Somebody had set up the system here to operate exactly in this manner. He himself had done the same in constructing the Self Monitoring Blood Glucose research team at the Atlanta pharmaceutical firm. It worked well in placing each contributor into a box – so to speak – where they could be managed.

"Dr. DeRose's background is in clinical pathology," Dr. Samarth was explaining to Dr. Johns. "He's going to be looking into Subject A's immune system attributes for us."

"Pleased to meet you," Dr. Johns said to Stan as they shook hands. "A background in hematology then?"

"Microbiology and clinical chemistry, actually," Stan replied.

"Interesting fit," Dr. Johns replied. "I'm curious to see what you're telling us in a week or two."

"I'm excited to get started," Stan replied, noting an undercurrent to Dr. Johns' delivery. There was a sense of challenge to it, as if to suggest he'd be measuring up Stan and that this was to put Stan on notice to that.

"Subject A is not ill, I hope?" Asked Dr. Johns to Dr. Samarth.

"Not ill at all, I'm told," Dr Samarth replied. "That's just the thing. Reportedly the subject is never ill. Remarkable." Then turning to Stan: "And here's our man for the job."

"Yes, I'm curious to see what you're telling us in a week or two," Dr. John repeated.

"Let's move along," said Dr. Samarth following the usual exchange of name dropping and revealed medical pedigrees – who had graduated from where, when, and under whose tutelage. Stan knew the drill. And he knew this was simply the first round of the sparring.

"I'll show you the facilities," Dr. Samarth continued. "The lab systems we're assembling are in the basement." He led Stan across the room and halls of the ground floor to a locked stairwell. Its position within the house and its solid modern construction jarred with the house's original 1920's style. A card reader protected the door, the same type Stan had seen coming into use at the NIH before his departure last spring to Atlanta. "We have a card for you," said Dr. Samarth as he opened it and led the way down. "The card is up in my office. Don't let me forget to give it to you."

"The equipment is not always the best, but it was what could be afforded." They walked through a set of sterile lab room, replete with centrifuges, storage systems, equipment racks and work stations.

At the far end, Dr. Samarth waved Stan into a partitioned area containing several small semi-private offices. The one pointed out by Arun was for Stan. It contained very little: a desk and a partially assembled IBM PC XT. "This will be your work area. Dr. Phil is putting together the computer systems. I will make sure yours is not neglected."

"Thanks," said Stan. Then he decided to throw in a hook. It was easy to see how each of the doctors that made up the group had been posturing so as not to reveal any weakness. So, it might be a nice softening to reel in Dr. Samarth with the opposite approach. "I hardly know how to work the things," he confessed.

"Don't worry," replied Dr. Samarth, taking the bait. "None of us do. But we hope to build a means of using them to pool the results of our work."

"I hope you don't mind if I stick with clipboards and filing cabinets for the most part."

"You'll probably find that a good idea," agreed Dr. Samarth.

~oOo~

They ventured upstairs to the second floor. Here Dr. Samarth and Dr. Mecklenburg had their offices next to one marked "C. Alvirez". This got Stan's attention as it was the only nameplate in the building where the surname was not preceded by the honorific "Dr."

They bypassed Arun and Alvirez' offces only to find the "Dr. Mecklenburg" door shut and locked. A knock at the door brought no answer. Turning back towards the stairs the two entered through the "Alvirez" door and settled into the chairs of a well-appointed office.

"So you understand," said Alvirez once the formalities were passed through, "we are playing this very close to the vest. None of us are to discuss any of this with anyone. As far as the world knows, we're an adjunct research outfit benefiting NIH."

"We're one quiet family," said Stan as he realized this was the one pulling the strings. Alvirez was somehow the one running this show… an FBI man.

"For the time being, we are working with blood samples from a person whom we are referring to only as 'Subject A.' We're taking care to properly long-term store much of the samples as they arrive, which occurs on a weekly basis. You will be allotted an amount of the remainder each week for your work. All work, of course, is being done here and here alone. Nothing is to leave the offices. Whenever you need something, let Dr. Samarth or Dr. Mecklenburg know."

"As I was saying to Dr. Johns, whom I met downstairs, I'm excited to get going on this."

"I understand from Dr. Samarth that you've returned to this area, specifically for this opportunity," Alveriz continued.

"Right. We own a house over in Arnold, along the Chesapeake. Rented it out, starting last summer while I took on a position in Atlanta." Stan was hoping not to have to get into anything specific about his work there. "Yet, when Dr. Samarth contacted me last month, this sounded like something I didn't want to pass up. So coming back's not a problem."

"You have a wife, right? And a daughter?"

"And both are, honestly, delighted to be returning home," Stan said.

"Yet your house is still rented, correct?" Stan got the feeling Alvirez knew the answers to these questions. Plus that Alvirez _wanted_ Stan to know that he already knew.

"Right, right," he replied with a nod. "We're staying in Fairfax with my wife's father. His place is good enough until June. At that point we have the place – the house in Arnold - back to ourselves."

Alvirez pursed his lips and then flexed his hands and fingers. "Let's do this," he said, opening his desk drawer and pulling out a check ledger. He signed and tore off a check and handed it to Stan. Stan noted it had already been made out to him. "Take this. I'm putting this down as defrayment of your moving costs."

"Oh," Stan began to object. Their moving costs were barely worth thinking about.

"Apply liberally to your renters. See that they make an early departure. I want you to be settled."

"Very well. Will do." Stan said. The position in Atlanta had had its own under the table dealings, but nothing as outright as this. Plus a sum that made him sit up straight: $10,000.00. "This'll do the trick."

Dr. Samarth, Stan realized, hadn't said even one word the entire time. Several points were made in quick order. First, all this had been rehearsed or planned. Alvirez and Dr. Samarth, at least, had made this arrangement ahead of his arrival. Second, Alvirez was clearly the one in command. While Arun had paved the way for his being here, hired, Stan would need to work more on how Alvirez worked. Arun would be a resource but not a strong one.

He packed the offered check into the inner pocket of this sport jacket. At that moment, Stan realized he had been bought. This adventure, willingly taken on was a cancer unto itself. Question was, what would its depth be?

# # #

[A/N: Thank you to the American Cancer Society and the Skin Cancer Foundation for the information concerning melanoma symptoms and treatment that they make available on their websites.]


End file.
